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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769582">where the sugar bushes grow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineteen95/pseuds/nineteen95'>nineteen95</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Gen, Hale Family Feels, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Past Sexual Abuse, Siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:07:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineteen95/pseuds/nineteen95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The guttural sucking noise that lets loose  from Derek’s chest when Kali yanks the pole free is so viscerally revolting that Cora has to clamp her eyes shut to stop herself from vomiting.</p><p>Or: Cora and Derek after the war.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cora Hale &amp; Derek Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. cora</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a scene snatched from the 15k long cora hale backstory + cordia fic that I repurposed and scrapped lol.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>s3e4: Unleashed coda. takes place after kali skewers or boy and deucalion tortures derek for the remainder of the episode.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The guttural sucking noise that lets loose when Kali yanks the pole out of Derek’s chest is so <em>viscerally</em> revolting that Cora has to clamp her eyes shut to stop herself from vomiting.</p><p>After that, it’s just agonizing silence, punctuated by the awful sounds of wet, shallow breathing and her own blood rushing in her ears. Cora darts toward Derek, dropping to her knees hard while the panic crests. Hands shaking, she flits them over his chest, unsure. She doesn’t know what to <em>do</em>. He’s trying to sit up, and that’s— no. Cora pushes him back down, less gently than she intended. The wound gurgles sickeningly in response. Cora gags. She can taste the metallic tang iron in the air.</p><p>Derek’s face pinches in new pain. His lips and teeth and lips are stained red.</p><p>“Don’t <em>move</em>—” she says, voice breaking around the words. She can feel her lips curling up into a snarl against her will.</p><p>“I’m okay.” Derek grits out between clenched teeth. Cora can feel how much pain he’s in and she hasn’t even tried to siphon it yet. She <em>almost</em> doesn’t want to and immediately, <em>immediately </em>hates herself for the thought. She just can’t comprehend the amount of pain he’s in right now. Fuck, she doesn’t understand how he’s still conscious.</p><p>“Cora, I’m okay,” he starts, trying to reassure <em>her</em> instead of focusing on <em>not fucking dying</em>.</p><p>Cora shakes her head and all at once the memory of Eric bleeding out comes to life in her mind, the echoes of ash and smoke and wolfs bane burning the back of her throat. “No, no no no <em>no, </em>you’re <em>not </em>okay— fuck, here, let me just—”</p><p>Claws protracting, she tears open the rest of his shirt with shaking hands and clumsily moves the fabric away from the wound. Her entire palm rests just beneath the wound’s irregularly healing borders, and she braces herself for the siphon. The initial transfer from wounds like these are always so <em>sharp</em> and she can’t help the hissing breath she takes. The pain drain is awful, it’s never not, but Derek’s relieved gasp makes it worth it. For the first time since Erica, Cora feels <em>useful. </em>Eyes watering, she can’t help but smile stiltedly when Derek blinks up at her, something like wonder etched in his features. </p><p>That hasn’t changed, at least. He still wears all his feelings on his face, even if he does look a little more imposing than the round-faced teen she remembers. </p><p>“I’m okay, Coco.” His eyes drifting shut and snapping back open again and again. He waves a hand in her general direction, slurring his next words. “M’okay. Sleep now.”</p><p>He finally blacks out, and the glimpse of his eyes rolling back under half-shut lids finally sends Cora into hysterics. She buckles over, sobbing into his chest, clinging to the sound of his heartbeat and biting her fist against screaming when she can’t handle Derek’s referred pain anymore. </p><p>Fuck, she hasn’t heard that name in <em>years. </em>For so long, so unbearably long, there was no one was left <em>knew, </em>like Coco had died in the fire with the rest of her family. She could never bring herself to tell anyone else. It was a name only her siblings called her, apparently coined by Derek when he was little because he couldn’t get his fucking ‘R’s out properly, something that their family made fun of him for years.</p><p>There’s no one left to share that memory. Peter doesn’t count, not after he— he—</p><p>That long overdue breakdown is rapidly approaching, she can feel it.</p><p>Cora needs to get it together. First, Derek needs to be moved. Or maybe not? The wound is healing sluggishly, worryingly so, and moving him might aggravate it. She rubs her knuckles over the upper portion of his sternum, hard. He doesn’t wake up. Unconscious, then. Granted, if he didn’t wake up through her crying then...</p><p>She should probably give the wound more time to heal. Yeah. She’ll let him rest a little and then she’ll move him over to his futon. Every instinct rioting when she turns her back on her injured pack-mate with his belly exposed. She’s trying to find a pillow or something to cushion his head. And keep his airway free.</p><p>The sound of Erica choking on her own vomit echoes intrusively through her head, the horrible noises she made when the moon’s pull was too weak to heal her, the sobbing breaths Boyd couldn’t hold back while Cora tried—and <em>failed</em>—to take her pain. She shakes her head, but she can’t—the sounds won’t <em>stop—</em></p><p>Feeling shaky all over, she grabs the pillow that smells most like her brother, and after a moment, his phone too. Healing is metabolically taxing, and she doesn’t even want to think about how hungry he’s going to be after his body—after that. She’ll order an obscene amount of sushi or something. Yes. Protein and carbs, that’ll do it. <em>They should get all-you-can-eat, after this</em>. She feels unhinged. <em>Like the Alaskan wolves that hunt salmon. </em></p><p>They should just move to Alaska. Both of them. Fuck Beacon Hills, fuck <em>everything </em>about this goddamn <em>shit hole—</em></p><p>Cora’s losing it. She just got a member of her family, a member of her birth-pack and okay, yes, it’s been tense, the two of them failing to bridge the gap made by years of distance and grief and whatever the fuck else Derek won’t tell her about. But she could lose him. Again. Her brother could have died. <em>Again</em>. He could <em>still </em>die, and she’d have to go through all that trauma again, knowing that her last words were so ugly and careless and—</p><p><em>Later. Break down later</em>. “Okay.” She mutters. “You can do this.”</p><p>Steeling herself, she remembers what she was doing and returns to where Derek’s sprawled out on the floor, tries to gently lift his head to stuff the pillow underneath. It doesn’t work; he’s dead weight and Cora’s so much smaller than him, so it flops around a little and well, fuck it, she’s trying. She’s trying.</p><p>It just isn’t <em>enough</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>Cora ends up setting an alarm on Derek’s phone and folding up her sweats as a makeshift pillow to settle in beside him until he heals up enough to move. Logically, she knows that she’s not <em>actually</em> helping by being close, and that yes, she’d probably function better if she got some sleep that was actually restful. But she also recognizes that there’s no friggin’ way in hell that she’ll be able to fall asleep after her territory, temporary as it is, was encroached upon, and her brother (her alpha? Is <em>she</em> Derek’s second, now? She hopes not, Boyd would be better at it. It should be Boyd) was injured in the process.</p><p>Her wolf won’t walk away from him yet, not while the wound struggles to repair itself from inside out. Cora just wants to give in to her instincts, all of which are screaming that she coddle and provide, hide and heal. But she was so cruel to him beforehand and maybe <em>before </em>it would have been fine but— this is her brother, but it’s also <em>not </em>her brother, and she doesn’t <em>know him </em>anymore. Does he consider her part of his pack? Does he want to?</p><p>Cora doesn’t think she’ll ever be brave enough to ask that question. </p><p>Her control is shot; the whine that slips from her throat long and forlorn like the ache in her chest. All she wants to do is curl up against his side, like they used to do for Eric when he got one his human flus. Or, no. The tone is different. The need for closeness building in her gut is more like when mom brought Derek back from the forest, eyes burning blue and the scent of iron and despair twining so deeply with his base scent that it never fully left.</p><p>Hours pass before Derek groans a little, eyes slitting open against the rays of the setting sun. Cora, who’s been in a weirdly vigilant daze she settled in, is properly alert in an instant. </p><p>“Derek?” She whispers. “Are you— are you awake?”</p><p>Another groan, but he rolls his head in her direction. “Cora?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Her smile is wan, and she reaches out to push his hair back from his hairline. “You okay? What do you need? Are you in pain?” </p><p>She’s an idiot. Of course he’s fucking in pain. She’s been siphoning as much as she can tolerate on and off since he blacked out, but she hasn’t for a while. Immediately, her hand drops below the chest-wound, hissing as the rolling agony slips up her arm. Derek’s eyes glaze over and he blinks against it.</p><p>Derek shakes his head. “Too many ques’ions,” he slurs. “Bed?”</p><p>Again, it seems like a horrendously bad idea, but his referred pain isn’t knife-sharp like it was a couple of hours ago. Cora nods her head, slips an arm under his shoulders and hefts him into sitting. The movement makes him grunt, sweat breaking out over his brow. Derek leans heavily into her and Cora and barely stops herself from tipping over— her leg is asleep.</p><p>“Sorry,” she grits through the pins and needles. “Gimme a sec.”</p><p>Derek makes no indication of having heard her, just tips his head forward, healing-weak and tired. He’s going to black out again. Soon.</p><p>Biting her lip hard, Cora flexes against her tingling calf. It feels shitty but really, she’s wasted enough time. For the first time since Derek broke her out of the bank, she’s thankful for the stupid loft-configuration of Derek’s apartment, even if she can’t understand how his wolf can stand sleeping in such an open space. It’s vulpine of her, a remnant of the skulk that fostered her, but she wants to go to ground and tuck him away from anything else that can hurt him.</p><p>Because he has the survival instincts of a <em>cub</em>, clearly. How could he have possibly thought taking on three alphas was going to—</p><p>Not the point.</p><p>Together, they stumble over the futon in the corner. She briefly wonders if Derek still has that ridiculous rule of his: no street clothing in his bed. She wonders if he’ll be pissed. Part of her hopes he will, at least it would be something <em>familiar</em>.</p><p>Cora eases Derek down as gently as she can at the foot of his bed, shifts him up against his grunting protests to get his feet up on the mattress before untying his laces and tossing his shoes aside. She yanks his shirt out from under him and tosses it aside too. </p><p>His eyes are drifting back shut when she realizes that he’s without a pillow. Again. She huffs out a breath, walks back to the scene of the crime to retrieve it and shove it in place. Her brother grins up at her blearily, all buck teeth and dimpled cheeks, and just like that, he’s unconscious again. </p><p>She hovers, unsure. Cora shakes a random quilt out over him. It smells vaguely off, like it wasn’t laundered after cracking it out of its casing, but the only heart-note she detects is Derek.</p><p>It breaks her heart. Sleeping alone fucking <em>sucks</em>. Touch starvation is crippling among wolves and if Derek hasn’t had a stable pack since Laura…</p><p>Cora shakes her head. She can’t think about Laura. Both wolf and human want nothing more than to curl up next to her brother, but she doesn’t know where they stand. She’s certain Derek would never hurt her, but an injured, unstable alpha caught off-guard by a hostile omega? Cora isn’t stupid.</p><p>She sets out in search of a mop. </p>
<hr/><p>Derek doesn’t have a mop.</p><p>He has one of those Swiffer things that Cora’s convinced just pushes dirt around and that’s how she ends up on bended knee scrubbing her brother’s blood off the floor. By the end of it, Cora is soaked in sweat and feels disgusting. The scent of iron lingers faintly underneath the gallons of vinegar and floor cleaner she dumped on the floor, but there isn’t really much else she can do about it. Maybe she’ll buy a rug or something. </p><p>She still thinks they should just leave. All of them, her, Boyd and Derek and Derek's other beta, the tall white guy. Maybe she can convince Boyd to drop out of BHHS— her next thought is cruel and she <em>knows </em>it is, but the hysteria welling up inside her leaves her unhinged and volatile and fuck, Cora left her entire fucking <em>family</em> buried here, she thinks Alicia will forgive Boyd for saving himself. Beacon Hills is <em>cursed</em>. </p><p>(Cora ignores the little voice in the back of her head that’s been steadily reminding her that they’re strangers now<em>.</em> Whispers that she hasn’t exactly shown her brother any kindness, either. Cora just didn’t think she’d be faced with the consequences so fucking <em>soon</em>.)</p><p>Derek’s still out cold, but his scent is softening and the open flow of blood is slowing. The loft is painfully quiet, punctuated by the sounds of Derek’s heavy breathing. Still, Cora can’t shake the shocky feeling. Like she’s too big for her skin and the walls are closing in on her. </p><p>She figures she should take a shower. The dried sweat is making her skin itch and the vinegar she spilled on herself isn’t enough to stifle the scent of Derek’s blood. Her shower is perfunctory at best, not really thinking too hard about anything one way or another. Unfortunately, that’s probably why she ends up sitting on her bed clad in only a towel, still fucking <em>trembling</em> and wondering what the fuck she’s supposed to do next.</p><p>With a hysterical laugh, Cora realizes that what she <em>wants </em>to do is call Peter— Uncle Peter, who would never, <em>ever </em>let anything happen to them. </p><p>(<em>Laura</em>, her wolfheartsoul cries. <em>Laura.</em> It’s salt in the wound, the fact that she missed Laura by weeks. She hates that Derek had her when she had no one, hates Peter for taking her, viscerally so, like she could go insane with it.)</p><p>It’s a good enough thought to trigger her oncoming breakdown, but not enough to <em>really </em>push her over the edge, apparently.</p><p>She wants to cry. She wants to curl up in a closet and scream.</p><p>She throws on a pair of sweats and a hoodie instead.</p><p>Cora ends up back in the living room, where it’s easier to keep track of Derek’s breathing patterns. Standing aimlessly in the kitchen, she fiddles around with her phone, snagging Derek’s wallet off the table to order a metric fuckton of Thai food that should be arriving in about an hour. Sushi’s a bust; despite BH’s proximity to the ocean, it’s still a small town and Cora decides right then and there that she doesn’t trust small town sushi. She does, however, trust that the Thai food place is legit purely based on the bitter reviews of middle-aged white people complaining about the service.</p><p>She feels kind of bad using Derek’s credit card information, like she just tracked him down for the money or something. Even if she <em>does </em>think about periodically, like when Derek mentions shit about Laura finishing college at NYU, but that’s not a conversation she knows how to have. </p><p>Did Derek go to college? Did he have a job before Beacon Hills called him back? Her heart seizes in her chest. There’s so much she <em>doesn’t </em>know about her brother anymore that she doesn’t even know where to start.</p><p>God, it almost didn’t fucking <em>matter </em>because Derek could have <em>died</em>.</p><p>Rustling sheets snap Cora’s attention over the futon. She doesn’t have time to work herself up into a full panic because Derek’s stirring, head lolling and groaning. She doesn’t know when he slipped out of unconsciousness and into sleep but she hopes he feels somewhat rested.</p><p>He doesn’t smell rested. He smells hurt and confused. Quickly, Cora rushes to the edge of the futon, sitting down on the edge gingerly, reaching over to the bedside table to grab one of the water bottles she left for him. </p><p>“Derek?” She says softly. Derek moans, blinking blearily up at her. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything? I ordered dinner, should be here in forty-five.” </p><p>He hums softly, and she helps him sit up a bit so she can get some water down his throat. She just can’t get her hands to keep still. Derek ends up spilling more water down his face and chest, and she wipes at it when Derek tries to wave a hand up to do the same. They maneuver him back to horizontal and he ends up rolling on his side toward her.</p><p>“You’re shaking.” He murmurs. Like an idiot. Such a fucking <em>idiot</em>.</p><p>“I just—” and that’s it, any composure she was selling to herself is lost. Covering her face with her hands, Cora curls over her thighs, trying to contain the sobs wracking her body. Her eyes burn, her head throbs, and she’s losing everything all over again.</p><p>(<em>Laura. LauraLauraLaura.)</em></p><p>“Hey, hey—” Derek says, a little more alert but not really. “It’s okay, Coco, come on, c’mere.” He continues, just like when they were younger, like nothing’s changed and everything’s the same and when he lifts his arm to open up the sheets for her despite the sharp spike in pain signals, Cora scrambles under it, easy as anything.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so <em>sorry</em>. I've been horrible to you this entire time and then you almost died<em>. Again</em>—” </p><p>“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”</p><p>Cora shakes her head, talking over him because it’s not, it’s <em>not</em> okay and she needs to try and explain. He needs to know how fucking sorry she is because Derek is an idiot, but he’s her brother, she loves him, she <em>loves him</em>, he knows that, right? “I just got you back and I know I’ve been <em>awful</em>, but Derek, I’m just so <em>angry </em>and I don’t know <em>why</em>— you promised you’d come back, you guys <em>promised</em> and I know it’s stupid but please, <em>please, </em>don’t leave me again, Derek, you <em>can’t</em>—”</p><p>She’s crying too hard to say anymore, awful, chest wracking sobs and tears that hurt more than anything, but Derek just holds her through it, stroking her back with a low growl rumbling through his chest like he’s soothing a cub. Like Amma and Mom used to do for them. </p><p>Derek’s apologizing, she realizes absently. A litany of <em>I’m sorry, I’m so sorry</em> over and over and over again and that’s… that’s not right either. She doesn’t want an apology. Cora doesn’t know what she wants, but it’s not that. It’s a painful thought, that they might not be able to help each other with this, that they might <em>never </em>be able to look out for each other like they used to. The tears are starting back up, and Derek’s saying something else now.</p><p>“We came back for you.” Derek stammers. He’s crying too, she realizes abruptly. “I swear to you, Cora, we didn’t leave you behind. We—me and Laura felt the bonds snapping, and we found each other and ran for the preserve. But— but we smelled smoke, and then we went to the treehouse to get you guys and <em>run</em> but—” His voice breaks on a hitching sob, and Cora can’t breathe. “The old tree you used to climb to get out of training and then, where you were supposed to meet us if anything— and then we found <em>Eric</em> and they were burning wolfsbane—everything was <em>burning</em>; the treehouse, they were waiting for us there, and we couldn’t <em>find you</em>.”</p><p>Cora gasps, something in her chest aching as she catches her breath. Part of her warms because yes, Derek’s heartbeat is quick with anxiety, but he’s telling the truth, he doesn’t <em>smell </em>like he’s lying. <em>They</em> <em>came back for her</em>. They didn’t leave her behind. </p><p>“Laura tried to hold me back, but I <em>had </em>to get to the treehouse—” he cuts off abruptly and doesn’t sound like he’s talking to her anymore. He takes a deep breath, and Cora waits, squeezes her arms around him while she tries to slow her breathing. She gets it, the memories are hazy, but she recalls that Derek had been upset about something that night, something a cousin or an aunt had said and Eric had covered for them while Laura snuck out to find him. She remembers Eric pressing a finger over his lips with a wink that didn’t match how worried he smelled as they watched Laura run into the preserve.</p><p>Derek shouldn’t feel bad about that, he couldn’t have known. </p><p>Derek’s continues. “...and Eric was <em>dead</em>; Coco, we <em>knew </em>Eric would have died before letting anything happen to you, but we— you were <em>gone, </em>we thought we lost both of you and I—”</p><p>The realization that her siblings didn’t abandon them eases the aching knot of resentment that’s been coiling in her chest since she caught wind of a Hale alpha in Beacon Hills. It doesn’t completely loosen and she doesn’t think it ever <em>will</em>. She’s going to hurt for a long time, they both are and fuck, Derek’s so, so different, now. But she is too, and she needs to remember that. </p><p>Maybe they can work with that.</p><p>“I ran away.” She whispers. “Eric got shot in the chest and I couldn’t take any more of his pain and the wolfs bane was making it so hard to concentrate, Derek. I tried to tell him we had to go to the treehouse so you and Lo could— but he said it wasn’t safe and— and that you guys were probably dead. All the bonds were breaking at once, and— he told me to run. He told me to get the hell out, but I was with him, Der, he wasn’t alone when he— when <em>he—</em>”</p><p>She inhales shakily. “Eric told me to run, so I ran.”</p><p>Derek’s arms squeeze around her, tucking her head underneath his chin. </p><p>“Good.” He whispers harshly. “I hate that you were all on your own, but I’m so happy you got out, Coco. So fucking happy.”</p><p>Cora nods her head, exhaustion etched into her bones. She doesn’t think she has any words left, but she thinks she feels lighter. She hopes Derek does too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. derek</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It isn’t until Cora’s talking about leaving everything behind and getting the fuck out of Beacon Hills, just the two of them, that the need to tell someone crests in him. </p><p>He’s never done this before, but he needs to be better for Cora.</p><p>“I have to tell you something.” Derek bursts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>post s3a finale. ripped from the same 13k cora hale backstory fic that was... bad LMAO.</p><p>warnings: sexual abuse disclosure and unreliable narration (i.e., self victim blaming and it's derek), also the BRIEFEST implication of a diy abortion</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There used to be four of them.</p><p>From the very beginning, for as long as Derek can remember, the twins were inseparable. Laura always fell too easily to to the wolf’s instincts, overly possessive, green with a heart of gold; Eric, the only human child, was in love with attention. Arthi had carried first, older than her wife and easily accepting of the wolf's need to provide and protect, to coddle and care. Six and three years later, Derek and Cora were born to Talia, and then that was it, it was just the six of them. Small for a birth-pack, but not for the Hale pack, and his all the same. </p><p>Of all his crimes, all the things Derek touched and destroyed, taking Eric away from Laura was his worst. Laura and Eric brought out the best in each other and minimized the worst. Derek couldn't do that for her, and by the time he realized that he wanted to, she wasn't his sister anymore. She was the alpha.</p><p>But the twins were inseparable, glued to the hip and fiercely, <em>fiercely </em>protective over each other. It was Eric starting blockers and Laura shearing off her hair with claws in the bathroom to divert the attention he drew at school. It was the unhinged scent of fury rolling off Eric in the screaming match that followed Talia scenting the life growing in Laura before Peter found the foxglove extract to take care of it.</p><p>Derek and Cora, on the other hand? They got close out of self-defence, probably. But he likes to think they would have fallen into place at each other’s side anyway. For Derek and Cora, it was their temperaments that made it work. A bad attitude and a worse temper. Amma’s cubs and eager to please, sorry, about it, Alpha. They were more restrained than the twins, who could charm anyone given the opportunity; Laura with her contrived buoyancy and Eric with his easy-going smiles and backhanded remarks that worked miles better than Derek’s insolence and Cora’s mean streak.</p><p>And it isn’t until Cora’s talking about leaving everything behind and getting the fuck out of Beacon Hills, just the two of them, that the need to <em>tell someone</em> crests in him. He’s never done this before, but needs to be better for Cora.</p><p>“We can head up north.”  Cora had suggested with a hesitant curl of her lips, so tentative and foreign from the giant grins that used to swallow her eyes that Derek’s breath catches in his throat.</p><p>The thing is—and he <em>hates </em>how well Kate could still read him when he never knew her at <em>all—</em>but she was right, and it kills him. Derek never did breathe a word of it to Laura. Any of it. How the hell was he supposed to look his sister, his <em>alpha</em>, in the eye and admit that that he was the reason that she kept looking over the shoulder Derek wasn’t behind? That he was the reason for her faltering smile and sour scent of loneliness that subsumed the fragrance he associated with <em>sister </em>and <em>happy.</em> Derek knew he was never going to be Laura’s first choice, but he had been too weak and selfish to give her up.</p><p>And then it was too late. </p><p>“I need to tell you something.” Derek bursts, startling Cora into dropping from the exposed beam she was using as a pull-up bar. Derek swallows hard, shifting his weight to his left foot to try and stem the dread settling settling like stones in his gut.</p><p>She stares at him hard, gesturing with her jaw for him to continue and sucking all the air out of his lungs. </p><p>He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Jaw working, he chooses his words carefully.</p><p>“I have to tell you something," he starts with, "and I need you to know that I— that I understand if you need to leave after. Or you can’t be near me anymore, okay? I get it.”</p><p>“Well, I fucking don’t.” Cora snaps, arms thrown out, confused and angry about it. Beneath it all, the bitter scent of anxiety rises and the familiarity of it all weakens him. It’s been comforting since the beginning, back when she was ripping into him, and rightfully so, for being a bad alpha. Cora lashes out, and that hasn’t changed about her at all.</p><p>If he focuses too hard he loses it, but at the very edges of his vision, in the afterimage of the alpha spark, Derek still catches bare glimpses of her aura: the parasitic green mist that leeches into the gold that outs her as an omega, and beneath it the hollow spaces where dozens of pack bonds existed, cracked and pulsing something colourless and arterial. A still bleeding wound.</p><p>Age should have tempered that belligerence into something controlled, but adversity and made her impulsive. Reckless. Dereks swallows hard. <em>Unanchored</em>.</p><p>“What the hell, Derek?”</p><p>Derek stares hard at the ground, curling his toes in his boots. He’s sick to his stomach and so deeply ashamed that instinct to bare his throat is nearly insurmountable. His hands are shaking, he swears they are, but when he looks at his fingers they’re still. </p><p>A deep breath. Just—spit it out. “The fire was my fault.” </p><p>Cora blinks at him, and then stills completely, and that’s—the silence is so long and so unbearable and Derek shouldn’t have started this, he shouldn’t have he shouldn’t have he shouldn’t have—</p><p>“What the fuck is the matter with you?” She barks, lips curled into a snarl and squaring up with him when the wolf cowers. “Why the fuck would you even say that?” </p><p>It’s pathetic. The whole sordid thing actively haunts him every fucking day, like Derek can’t blink, can’t take a single breath that isn’t somehow colonized by Kate’s presence, her voice whispering in the in the back of his head, playing him, using him. Hurting him. Derek’s rehearsed the whole speech time and time again, and it should be <em>easy</em>; this is a conversation he’s had with himself every single day since he was sixteen, his mind illustrating every worst-case scenario and the fever dream possibility where he survives them, somehow. It’s Laura rejecting him from her pack for his complicity. Talia killing him, carving the symbol of retribution over his back, defacing the Hale crest—his life to answer for there's. It's Amma’s disappointment, her human lungs filled with smoke, gasping and crying and begging and <em>accusing</em>—</p><p>There are so many things that he wants to tell Cora— how <em>low</em> he felt after he killed Paige, monstrous and ugly down to his bones, warping his wolf and the perverting the integrity of his anchor. The moment his wolf-sight burned blue, guilty and inescapable. Their cousins shying away from him during the wolf moon rituals, how the rejection chased him out of the house and sent Laura hot on his trail. The way that was somehow worse than the Manhattan Alpha demanding forcing their submission and turning them away after one look at him. </p><p>When he started failing his classes because he couldn’t fucking <em>remember </em>anything, like all the lectures washed over him like water.</p><p>The moment that Kate Argent stepped into his English class, unassuming in her chucks and her blinding smile and her fake fucking name.</p><p>“She was your <em>teacher?</em>” </p><p>Derek’s hands curl into fists at his side. He stares up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “I know.” And then his knees give out on him.</p><p>Cora is there before he hits the ground, wedging her shoulder under his arm with a grunt. He blinks, hazy as she guides him to the couch and barely registering the shaky grip of her hand around his. She doesn’t let go, and Derek trembles.</p><p>Kate made him feel—he doesn't even know. Derek had been on the verge of failing the year, his moms didn't question it when he started staying after school for tutoring—they had encouraged him, even, hopelessly relieved that he was taking an interest in something again according to the whispers from behind their bedroom door. He knew he was difficult, he always had been, and he was just so tired of making his amma cry.</p><p>Tutoring started during the lunch hour. Then it was after school. Kate invited him to her apartment and Derek, who couldn’t stand to be in his own home and suffocating in the oppressive silence and choked by flickers of beta-gold everywhere he looked. It was as if he was drowning; like Paige ripped something vital from him with her last breath and he slipped so far away that he couldn’t find his way out of whatever it was that Paige did to him for ruining her.</p><p>And then Kate put her hand on his thigh, leaning in so close and smiling at him so softly, and no one looked at him like that anymore. No one looked at him at all. But there she was, so <em>close</em> and giving the wolf the healing physicality that the human didn’t want. Telling him how proud she was of him, so smart for getting an A on his last test. That his essays were written so maturely, so grown-up for his age when she didn’t even know the half of it.</p><p>That she thought he was just another college student doing a practicum Beacon Hills. He was just so handsome and—</p><p>He doesn’t say any of that. He just—he’s stuck.</p><p>When he first kissed her, the feeling that settled in his chest was so warm, heady and addictive. Not the echo of despair that had been weighing him down for months or the terrible memory of Paige crying in his nightmares.</p><p>Cora’s arm slips over his shoulders and Derek was such a fool.</p><p>Tucking his head between knees, he tries to catch his breath, so he can—do something. Say something useful. His hands curl into his hair and he—it feels good to yank at it a bit, so he can try and concentrate on something that isn’t <em>this</em>. Cora’s hand lands on the back of his neck, stroking gently, and it’s embarrassing how his wolf responds to that, rolling over, <em>begging</em>. Her touch his gentle, but the emotions emanating from her are— they're—</p><p>“I underst—” Derek starts, but his voice cracks and everything in his chest seizes up tight and painful. He tries again. “I understand if you—”</p><p>“Shut up.” Cora’s voice breaks over the words and then she’s leaning against him, hunched over pressing her forehead to his temple. “Shut <em>up</em>. Jesus Christ, D, she— she fucking <em>preyed </em>on you.”</p><p>He breathes. “It was okay in the beginning.” Derek can’t get anything else out, the words stuck in his throat. “She made me feel—” gentle, he wants to scream, to beg her to understand.</p><p>But their entire pack is dead, so what does it even matter at this point? He shakes his head, tells her, “I wanted it. I did.”</p><p>Cora whines, lupine and devastated. Her hand tightening on the back of his neck ever so slightly, Derek going weak under the onslaught and <em>god</em>, this thing welling up in chest is too big, too volatile and he just wants to go <em>home</em> but home is gone and he burned it down.</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘<em>in the beginning’</em>?” Cora demands, the words falling out of her all at once and Derek wants to— he doesn't even know. “What did she—Derek, what did she do?”</p><p>Derek can’t—he won’t survive this, he <em>won’t</em>. </p><p>But how can she still not fucking <em>get it</em>? “I was fucking complicit, you idiot." Stop, <em>stop</em>. "I killed them. Me.” </p><p>“Don’t.” She gasps.</p><p>For a moment, the only noise loft is the sound of their breathing, heavy with rage and and tears and so much fucking <em>despair</em>.</p><p>“She—<em>raped</em> you?” Cora spits, stumbling over the word like it’s a slur and Derek—is not ready for this, he won't do this, he <em>can’t—</em> </p><p>He jerks himself out of her hold, back ramrod straight even though the wolf is down, belly to the floor and howling. His vision slips, the wolf vying for control and his eyes, they're blue, they're fucking <em>blue—</em></p><p>“<em>Stop!”</em> he barks loudly, too loudly. She cringes away from him and it guts him. “Fucking <em>stop</em>—”</p><p>But it's Cora so she just fucking ignores him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry,” she says, talking over him, backtracking and stuttering through apologies as if he could get another word out. “You don’t—don’t answer that. I mean you don't have to, I just— fuck, just let me <em>think—</em>” </p><p>“Don’t call it that,” his eyes shut, and the fight drains right out of him. He feels empty, raw. “Just—please don’t call it that.”</p><p>Cora stays silent, but she’s still there again. Tentative, but she's <em>there,</em> crowding into in his space and despite the nausea roiling through his head and stomach, there’s something—familiar. Something familiar blooming in the depths of heart. Warm and—</p><p>It hits like an anvil to the skull. A <em>bond</em>.</p><p>Something in Cora’s scent snaps, the heady scent protectiveness stripped bare enveloping him. “I need you to listen to me.” She says lowly, selling composure even through the heaviness in the air. “You don’t have to say anything. But Derek. She was a fucking— I <em>hate her</em>.” She spits suddenly, shaking him by the neck a little. He whines, a hurt sound that she soothes immediately.</p><p>“She hurt you," she murmurs, but her voice is steady. Fierce. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t. And I’m not leaving, okay?”</p><p>“Cora," he breathes.</p><p>And that’s it. Derek cracks open, right down the centre and into the arms of his dead sister.</p>
<hr/><p>Later, when they’re flopped over the futon in the loft, barely awake from their third nap of the day and surrounded by empty cartons of Thai food from that place Cora’s weirdly obsessed with, she asks him about Laura. It's the first time they've talked about her. </p><p>Derek closes his eyes. They’re sore, aching from the last few hours, but the fragile bond flickers between them. It’s warm, glowing, but he can’t feel her through it yet, and Derek doesn’t think she feels him, either, but the potential is there. </p><p>“I never told her.” Derek finally admits, ashamed.</p><p>Cora’s fingers freeze where they’re carding through his hair. When he doesn’t elaborate, she asks, “Derek?”</p><p>He exhales hard. What’s another confession? He has no secrets left, not from her. “I was afraid she’d make me an omega. She was different after the fire.”</p><p>“But, Derek,” she says, implores, really, and Derek doesn’t have the energy to argue over this. Not right now. Maybe not ever.</p><p>“I couldn’t risk losing her.” He justifies, the need to defend himself rising in him for the first time that night. He wouldn’t have survived that, would have choked himself on wolfsbane before she even calmed down enough to talk. But he can’t say that to Cora, who had no one for <em>years</em>. She’s so much stronger than him.</p><p><em>A Hale alpha in Beacon Hills</em>, she had said, so desperate and angry and hopeful that the memory makes his chest ache. He hates Peter all over again for taking Laura away from her. After years of being alone, Cora missed them by mere <em>months</em>.</p><p>Laura would have been so lucky to know her.</p><p>“She would never,” Cora whispers into the hush, voice thick with tears. He wonders if she’s thinking the same thing. “You know she wouldn’t have.”</p><p>Derek shrugs, the familiar ache in his heart threatening to swallow him whole again every time he thinks of Laura. Instead, he worries that renewed bond, stronger than it was since the vault, weakened by distance and years of hurt. But it’s there, growing stronger with every beat of his heart. Derek slings an arm over his head and exhales.</p><p>“I couldn’t trust my own judgement.” He says to the ceiling. It’s easier to admit it in the dark. “Still can’t.”</p><p>Cora squeezes him tight, like she can hold together all his broken pieces. He thinks it might be okay to let her try. </p><p>He wants to. But first he's going to get her the hell out of here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>it's a honestly a goddamn crime that we didn't get more of them</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>concrit is appreciated if you have it! seriously, i'm v out of practice.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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